<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A night to remember by Kendrene</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089870">A night to remember</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene'>Kendrene</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supergirl (TV 2015), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, Smut, Vampire Lena Luthor, Witcher Kara Danvers, the Witcher AU nobody asked for but it's here</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:08:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,224</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26089870</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>When a wizard hires Kara to kill the bruxa that haunts the nearby bog she thinks nothing of it. Monster slaying is her job. But when it comes to magic, things are seldom what they seem...</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>745</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A night to remember</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've powered through a crappy depressive episode to write this. Enjoy.</p><p>- Dren</p><p>HOUSEKEEPING NOTES:</p><p>- Mgła means fog in Polish.</p><p>- Fisstech is a drug that can be used as a powerful anesthetic. </p><p>- Some of the vampiric powers of a high vampire are very similar to what the vampires we know from slavic folklore can do (turning into bats, controlling minds of men and animals etc.) but others are left to the imagination. As there are plenty of shape shifters/creatures that can simulate a person's appearance/voice I thought it'd be a cool power for Lena to have.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Kara’s starting to suspect she’s walked herself into a trap. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun’s gone down, leaving behind a sky that’s the color of a freshly inflicted wound, ripe with a storm she can sniff out in the air, but can’t yet see peeking over the horizon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bog itself is a veritable maze, tangled reeds and sodden ground stretching in every direction as far as the eye can see. It confounds her senses, bewitches her, and despite the nagging feeling that foul magic is afoot, the wolf’s-head medallion around her neck has remained dormant, which makes her feel even more on edge. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Three days have gone by since she’s entered the swamp the wizard directed her to, three days of mud making its way inside her clothes and insect bites that even her potions fail to soothe. Some of the things that sting her are poisonous — she can tell by the searing pain they leave behind — and would mean death or rot for someone less equipped than Kara is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, hardship isn’t all that’s worrisome. A Witcher’s used to that, and to going hungry when no contracts can be found. To being chased out of a village by pitchfork-bearing mobs, and to survive on what can be scavenged on the road. No, it’s the </span>
  <em>
    <span>quiet</span>
  </em>
  <span>, sitting like a heavy weight across her shoulders that has her questioning her decision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, she’s already been paid — something that happens so rarely it’s nearly unheard of — and promised another bag of gold on her return. Even now, as she carefully leads her mare along a dry-looking stretch of ground, Kara can hear the gold pieces jingle in her purse. Enough to pay for the trip back to Kaer Morhen as it is, and with the extra sum the wizard promised, plenty to see her and her adoptive sister through most of the winter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Several months without chasing the next contract down, or risking her neck on a deserted road. Kara could hardly ask for more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s stop for the night, shall we?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it shatters the quiet, her voice sounds far too loud. Kara winces, patting Mgła’s arching neck to settle her own nerves, the mare snorting in agreement. Her iron-shod hooves stomp the ground until it rings — a little on the side of hollow — and her ears incessantly twitch, like she’s hearing things Kara cannot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Disturbed by their arrival, a siege of herons explodes from a cane thicket nearby, taking to the air with a shrill cry, and Kara welcomes the sight with a sigh of relief. It’s the first sign of life she’s come across since heading into the bog, aside from her own horse, every other animal living here hidden and unseen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The racket caused by the herons bounces oddly around the wetlands, multiplied tenfold until it fades. Not by degrees, but abruptly cut off, as though a headsman’s ax descended and sliced neatly through the noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just the atmosphere of the place,” Kara mutters to herself, hurrying to start a small fire before darkness finally descends, limitless and absolute. “Just the place.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wizard had warned her of the dangers, and normally, she would not take a contract on a bruxa. No lone, self-preserving Witcher would, and even if she were traveling in a pair, there would have been a long debate about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when he’d petitioned for her services, Kara’s stomach had been empty and rumbling loudly, and when he’d dangled the coins in front of her nose, she’d let hunger lead the way instead of her brains. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She regrets it now, as she tucks into a dinner of cold cheese and hard bread, and wonders whether she could get away with just leaving and never showing up to tell the man she failed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s an idle thought brought on by tiredness, one that Kara immediately dismisses, but the uneasiness remains, and anointing her silver sword with St. Gregory’s oil doesn’t bring her the balance that she hoped for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A measure of hydragenum, just so,” Kara says to herself, weighing and pouring and mixing by the light of the fire. “Then vitriol and vermilion.” She applies an even coating of the oil all along her blade, but finds none of the calm J’onn trained her to seek. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next, comes the part she truly loathes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>While most potions, like the oils, can be prepared on the fly, the black blood is not one such. Too much of an ingredient, too little of another, and what is a formidable weapon against higher vampires and their ilk transforms into a poison. Not lethal — not for a Witcher, at least — but toxic enough to incapacitate one for hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It tastes as horrid as it looks, too. Black as tar, it’s viscous and hard to swallow. Kara grimaces around the first gulp, but forces the entire vial down, chasing it with a draught of brackish water from her flask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the space of a few breaths nothing happens. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, her throat closes up, her heart stuttering. It stops. Kara curls in on herself, vision dimming as terrible cramps wreak havoc on her body. The entire reaction lasts only seconds, but to her, time stretches indefinitely. Eventually, the cramps abate – the glowing, red vines that had appeared upon her skin slowly disappearing – and she can suck in a first, desperate breath. It hisses through clenched teeth, and after she has filled her lungs a couple of times, Kara can finally right herself again, blood trickling from her nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She doesn’t even try to stem the blood flow, but lets the liquid drip down her chin and to the ground, where it lands with a subdued sizzle. That’s the entire point of the potion she just took. To lure the bruxa in with the scent of her own blood, and kill her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except she’s been doing this for three nights now, and it hasn’t worked once. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She can’t keep doing it much longer, either — a Witcher’s body has limits, too, and Kara’s dangerously close to finding out what hers are. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her breathing calmed, Kara settles down to wait next to the fire, silver blade bared across her knees. Overhead, the moon peeks through a racing cloud, so full and fat and close to the ground it looks like it’s just one inch from falling on her head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Will o’ wisps wink into her vision, dancing at the edges of the light cast by the fire. Kara ignores their attempts to lure her away from her camp. Only quicksands and treacherous mud wait in the dark. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the bruxa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’s about ready to give up when an unnatural wind picks up, sudden and cold with the chill of an open tomb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her meager fire doesn’t stand a chance. The flames roar higher, flaring orange-gold until they nearly singe her cheeks — then the fire abruptly dies — as though sand was poured directly on it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kara has time to grab her sword, but it is batted from her hand like a child’s toy and is lost somewhere in the mud, the silver glinting once before she loses track of it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not a bruxa,” she manages to gasp as she’s slammed into a puddle, water and mud rising in a wave around her. Throughout the short flight, the medallion that was supposed to warn her of the monster’s presence remains inert on her chest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kara sees her then, but only because she wants to be seen. Alabaster skin, black hair, lips as red as sin. Eyes bottomless and green, so beautiful that as Kara sees her stunned face reflected in, them she’s filled by the inexplicable urge to cry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not a bruxa.” A slender hand closes around her throat, and slowly starts to crush her windpipe. “But you, my darling Witcher, are a fool.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kara comes to, her first thought isn’t for her safety, but for that of her horse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mgła!” She makes it as far as pushing herself up on one elbow before a series of chills tumbles down her spine, as destructive on her body as a landslide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be still.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kara recognizes the voice’s musical lilt. It’s the sweet sound of a stream when a man is burning up with thirst, and the promise of cooling shade in the middle of a desert. She casts around for her silver sword, remembering she lost it somewhere in the swamp just as the same pale hands that closed around her throat guide her back onto the furs she’d been stretched out on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Be still, I said.” A cup is pressed to her lips, long fingers stroking her throat as liquid begins sloshing in her mouth. “And drink this. You have come close to poisoning yourself – which, for the record, congratulations. Really.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kara does her best to fight back, more than a bit incensed at the sarcastic tone. Her lips pull in a taut line she tries to keep sealed as she heaves against the woman’s hold. In the end, it’s all for nothing. Soft lips brush against her earlobe, and the command is repeated, but this time, it’s a whisper that worms its way into her thoughts. Controls them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Drink</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Vampire,” she gurgles around a mouthful of whatever she’s being fed, trickles of it overflowing from her mouth to dribble down her chin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not as stupid as you look, then. And don’t worry about the horse. I haven’t bled it dry. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yet</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” The creature counters with a smile that shows her fangs in full. “Now, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sleep</span>
  </em>
  <span>.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Kara does. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She wakes up several hours later with a clear head and fully rested, as though she had a good night of sleep inside an inn. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vampire’s nowhere to be seen, and Kara kicks away the blanket she’d been lying under,  leaping at the chance to look around. If she can make it to her horse, she can flee — find her way out of this infernal mire — the wizard be damned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She expects to have been taken below the earth, into a musty, bone-filled crypt smelling of rot. Instead, the place the vampire has chosen as her home is a dead-ended gorge, so narrow in places that the rocky slopes form a natural vault overhead, hiding the stars. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shelves have been carved on the live rock, filled with books, glass vials, potted plants. Bunches of dried medical plants vie for space with deer skulls and the odd trinket, and candles burn at regular intervals within smaller alcoves. They bathe the space in a warm, orange light, and near where the vampire sleeps — a slab of smooth obsidian tucked at the very end of the glen — a bigger fire burns, crackling with heat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will not find your way out of the bog without help.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kara’s made it almost to the point where the gorge opens into a sloping field when the vampire speaks, right next to her shoulder. She can glimpse the maze of reeds and stagnant water beyond the swaying grasses, moonlight bouncing off of a pond’s marshy surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will guide you,” the creature continues, appearing at her side from a cluster of deep shadow. “But what about something to eat first? And perhaps a bath?” Kara can practically </span>
  <em>
    <span>hear </span>
  </em>
  <span>the vampire wrinkle her nose at the last question. “Besides, I have your belongings. I assume you’d want them back before you leave?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kara whips around, snake-fast, but the vampire easily sidesteps her attempt at a grab.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re in no shape to fight yet.” The creature watches her from a few paces away, eyes as green as the carpet of moss beneath her feet. She looks curious, and more than a bit amused, rather than wary. “Come back to the fire. Eat. Rest. Let us talk. There is no need for this to end in violence.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kara feels fine, but there’s a kernel of truth in the vampire’s words. Whatever herbs she was given have countered the effects of all the potions she ingested, but her reflexes are slowed and she can’t keep her mind completely focused. Her body aches the way it did after a long day of training in Kaer Morhen: leaden with exhaustion and craving more sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you already, Witcher.” The vampire’s moved inside her space again without her noticing, and up this close, the fleeting impression of beauty Kara gleaned is confirmed tenfold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The creature’s gorgeous, in a heart-stopping sort of way, with knowing eyes the shade of woodland yet untouched by men, where all manner of wild things may roam. Like all higher vampires, she could slip through a human crowd without raising suspicion, even pose as one if she so wished. Kara’s never met one of her kind before — they’re so rare that even the accounts kept within Kaer Morhen’s extensive library are few and contradictory — but one thing they all agree on. Higher vampires are nigh unkillable, even for a veteran Witcher. Which she is not, at least not yet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beautiful she may be, but she’s still one of the most dangerous creatures a Witcher could cross paths with. Kara clings to that, and to her training as she follows the vampire back to the fire. But, when a copper tub already filled with hot water to the brim comes into view, holding onto her suspicion becomes a nearly impossible task. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Frustration growing, Kara stops next to the tub, not quite knowing what to do. Her skin itches with old sweat and dried mud, but getting into the water means letting her guard down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Next to her, the vampire clears her throat, and that’s a sharp reminder of how badly she must stink to be offered a bath. Kara disrobes, feeling the vampire’s eyes devour every inch of exposed skin without restraint, and wonders whether the water is just paving the way to a clean, lavender-scented snack.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t drink human blood unless it is freely offered.” The vampire has seated herself on a stool next to the tub, and clearly has no intention of looking away as Kara lathers up. “That makes the experience more… </span>
  <em>
    <span>pleasant… </span>
  </em>
  <span>for both parties involved.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kara doesn’t know whether it’s the inflection with which the words are said, or the open desire in the vampire’s gaze as it lingers on her womanhood, but she realizes she’s not solely in the presence of an immortal, but of an omega as well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widen, and she grows stiff beneath the surface of the water, so fast that the ache between her legs shoots up her spine, making her gasp.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You seem surprised,” the vampire muses, having read her change in expression as if she were an open book. “We are more likely than you think, Witcher. My kind, too, abides by ruts and heats, depending on their nature. Those things rule us more than the thirst for blood ever could.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kara.” She has to work some moisture back into her mouth before she can talk at all, and even so, all that comes out is a pitiful croak. How embarrassing. The omega is very close, and despite being submerged in fragrant water to her chin, Kara can easily smell her. Her scent is startlingly warm, like sunlight, but the heat that has gathered between them doesn’t come from stolen blood. Rather, it’s Kara’s own body responding to something she’s not had in a long, long while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The vampire seems aware of that, because slender fingers dip into the water, tracing the swell of her breast. Kara shivers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m Lena,” she whispers, leaning down, close enough Kara could just kiss her if she wanted. She wants to, but wants some answers more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you doing this?” Kara asks, doing her best not to scent the omega too openly. “Your brew purged my system, you’ve offered me shelter. Why?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lena pulls back, and it’s like the sun is gone, hidden behind a cloud. Despite the steam rising from the surface of the bath, the space the vampire’s put between them is a cold draft, and Kara almost regrets asking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The man who hired you to kill a bruxa...” Kara’s silver sword is sitting across Lena’s lap all of a sudden, back in its sheath. The hilt is spattered with mud, a clear indication the vampire went and retrieved it from the swamp herself. “Describe him to me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bald. Bearded. As arrogant as any mage I’ve come across. He paid me half in advance, and his concern for the wellbeing of the townspeople this… </span>
  <em>
    <span>bruxa</span>
  </em>
  <span>… preyed upon seemed genuine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m quite sure he played the part.” Leaning the sword against the side of the tub and within Kara’s reach, Lena stands and walks off brusquely. When she returns, she’s holding the purse the mage gave Kara as payment, except that when she shakes it under Kara’s nose, it doesn’t jingle anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wha—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without replying, Lena opens the purse, upending it. Only dirt comes out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The gold—” Kara can’t believe her eyes. She snatches the leather purse from Lena and frowns into it, as though she could manifest the golden coins it had been full of by sheer stubbornness alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There was never any gold, Kara.” Lena sits back down, making no attempt to reclaim either the purse or the silver sword. “You’re not the first one he’s lured to this bog with the promise of wealth. But his powers are failing, obviously. The glamour is supposed to last until I am dispatched, or until whoever he recruits to do the dirty work for him is dead, by my hand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how many have you killed?” All the revelations have Kara reeling, and she lashes out without really thinking of the consequences her words will have. Lena flinches from the accusation as if physically struck and ducks her pretty head, refusing to meet Kara’s accusatory eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“None. Some could be reasoned with and left me be of their own accord. Those who would have tried to kill me, I mind-controlled and sent back out of the bog unarmed. A few have gotten lost trying to find me, and perished before I could get to them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit.” Kara stands, water sloshing all around the tub. “I don’t believe you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you don’t, then strike me down.” Lena points to Kara’s blade, still resting within her grasp. “I will not resist you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kara glowers, fingers twitching toward the weapon, before eventually, she lets herself sink back into the water.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t.” She hangs her head, and her restless hands create a small maelstrom in the bathtub. “Without your help, I might have been dead. I will not harm you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Lena’s hand finds hers, and it is surprisingly soft, the vampire’s immense strength kept under tight control. “There is a way for you to know the truth, beyond the shadow of a doubt, if you are willing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Which is?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lena shifts closer, pulls Kara’s hand out of the water and places it over the spot on the hollow of her throat where her pulse would beat if she were human. “Let me share my blood with you,” the vampire says. “And then you will know all there is to know about this sad tale.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kara’s sitting cross legged on the pile of furs, wearing only a shirt she recovered from her saddlebags. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>(Mgła’s fine, just as Lena promised, and happily eating from the oat-filled feed bag hung over her muzzle.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lena sits across from her, so close their knees are practically touching, green eyes tracking over Kara’s body with intent. She blushes under the scrutiny a little, but doesn’t shy away. Despite the doubts that linger about Lena’s true motives, Kara is willing to admit she likes the way she’s being looked at. As though she’s desirable, as if the ugly scars along her ribs and torso are unimportant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A small cut will be enough for a few drops,” Lena whispers, sandpaper rough when she feels the cold kiss of the silver in Kara’s hand. Her body tenses against the blade, and her hands shake.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I meant it when I said I would not hurt you,” Kara replies, working the tip of her sword across the vein on the vampire’s neck, parting her skin. “I—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sword clatters to the ground and she groans, the heady scent of Lena’s blood hitting her nose. It has a distinct coppery tang, but underneath, it’s pure omega essence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Forgetting everything about caution, Kara falls forward, mouth forming a seal over the bleeding cut as she sucks the blood with a thirst and a greed she’s never known before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They tumble on the furs, but she’s barely aware, her mind ablaze with memories that aren’t hers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Armed men trudging through the mire much the way she did, only to be sent on their way empty-handed. A runestone, half-buried in the muck and pulsing with enough raw power to reshape a continent. Above all, Kara sees Lena, centuries of her life flashing before her eyes in the time required for her to draw one breath. Eons of solitude, crippling loneliness spent guarding the place of power at the very heart of the swamp. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what he wants.” Lena’s cradling Kara’s head, holding her close. One of her hands is trailing along the scar the shirt can barely conceal, like she’s meaning to commit each of them to her memory. “His powers are failing him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But if he absorbs what the runestone holds, nothing will stop him,” Kara completes, hearing Lena’s words inside her thoughts. The vampire’s not trying to control her, however — her blood was simply a gateway to her mind. She’s laid herself bare, so that Kara would believe her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He cannot be allowed.” They breathe the words in unison, and then, filled to bursting with the dark despair of empty centuries spent in near unbroken isolation, Kara pins Lena to the furs and kisses her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been so long,” Lena whimpers against her mouth, fangs scraping at her lower lip delicately, careful not to draw her blood. “I am not sure I remember how.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, even as she speaks, her hands are tugging at Kara’s shirt, and when the Witcher bunches the dress she’s wearing up and past her hips, she does not resist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure it’ll come back to you just fine,” Kara shoots back, fighting with the row of mother-of-pearl buttons that hold the front of the dress closed. When she rips through them, the sound of tearing fabric accompanied by a growl of aggravation, Lena throws her head back with a laugh. Kara thinks she’d do anything in her power to hear her laugh that way again — rushing and sweet, like a waterfall in summer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may be right.” The vampire flips them over easily, rucks her torn dress over her head and flings it off into a corner. Kara is treated to the sight of creamy skin, coarse hair between the vampire’s thighs. Then, Lena crashes their mouths together again, the kiss ravenous and sloppy, and all she can do is let her hands slip between their bodies to palm at the omega’s pillowy breasts. They’re topped by firm, pink nipples she aches to take into her mouth and suck, but first, the need that’s taken a hold of them both needs to be sated.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yes…” Lena pants, her own hand descending between Kara’s twitching thighs to close around her shaft. “It’s coming back to me alright.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the head of Kara’s cock comes into contact with her cunt for the first time, they gasp, Lena’s body going slack on top of hers for long, shuddering moments. Kara rolls them over one more time, so that she’s on top, neck arching as she bares her throat, hips rolling into Lena’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” Lena’s eyes are wide, and she forgets herself enough to stop breathing entirely. “Are you—?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Offering of my blood freely.” Lena’s fangs scrape over her pulse, making her buck involuntarily. There’s enough slick between them, that when she does, she sinks inside of Lena’s welcoming heat without much trying. As though her body knows the vampire’s intimately. Like they are built to fit with one another. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later, she cries out, the sting of Lena’s fangs piercing her throat rocketing through her. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Gods</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but it feels good. Better than she ever could imagine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lena takes only a little, and when she pulls back, mouth smeared with Kara’s blood, her cheeks are suffused a lovely pink. Kara kisses each one, kisses her slowly, licking at Lena’s fangs until the vampire’s groaning, rising to meet her thrusts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she tastes her own blood, Kara’s inner alpha becomes frenzied. It wants, and wants and wants, and she can barely hold back from attempting a mating bite. She has no idea whether it would even work, given their differences. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would let you try.” Lena’s tongue darts out, tracing her earlobe, before it slips wetly down her neck. “I would let you try so many things, Kara.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lena’s crying, Kara realizes, silent pink-tinged tears snaking down her cheeks. When Kara growls into her neck, and lightly bites at the cut she’d made — which has already healed — Lena clutches at her shoulders, buries her face into her. Her scent is a blend of arousal and sadness, and Kara is left wishing there was something she could do about the latter. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck me harder,” Lena whines into her ear, nails digging at the caps of her shoulders, clawing at the back of her neck. “You will be gone soon, and I don’t want to think about that. I just want to feel you — ah!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her pleas are cut off by a savage thrust, Kara’s fingers slipping-sliding in the mess they’ve made until she finds Lena’s thudding clit. She flicks it with her thumb, and when the omega’s walls flutter around her in response, she presses on it hard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t think of anything else but my cock inside you,” Kara promises with fervor, eyes burning and dark. “High vampire or not, I’m going to leave you sore.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, gods! Kara, please!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spurred on by Lena’s wailing, Kara thrusts faster, as deep as she is able. Her mouth and hands aren’t idle either; while she keeps one between them to circle Lena’s swollen clit, she grabs one of her nipples with the other, twisting at the root. Her mouth swallows Lena’s cries of pleasure as if </span>
  <em>
    <span>she </span>
  </em>
  <span>was the vampire between them, the pace she sets unrelenting, even after the omega comes once, gushing all over her shaft. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“‘M close,” she has time to grind out, Lena already tightening around her again as she nears a second peak. “Gonna—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Give it to me.” Lena’s eyes are forest pools, and Kara drowns, completely helpless. “Fill me up Kara, darling. Come inside me. Gods, please, I want to feel you—” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kara howls as she comes, and Lena echoes her. Their releases combined are devastating. Kara’s arms give out and she collapses atop the omega, rutting into her pliant flesh without coherent thought. The wet slide of their bodies is the perfect counterpoint to her frenzy, Lena’s high-pitched screams encouraging her strokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her climax abates slowly, the last of it following her out of the omega’s cunt in a thick rush. Kara is barely aware she’s being pushed onto her back, but when Lena’s mouth is pressed to each and every scar, she blinks herself out of her stupor, and tugs onto a rope of raven hair to make the omega look up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Darling,” Lena rises to kiss her collarbone, a gentle hand cupping her cheek. “We aren’t nearly done.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We’ve only just begun.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>***</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A week later, Kara’s sitting astride Mgła, waiting. The town where the mage lives is barely visible down below, dusk having long turned into night at the bottom of the valley. The wizard’s tower is a shadowy mass right at its center, the tiled roof glinting a vague pink as one last ray of sunlight briefly shines upon it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wound on her throat aches, even though she put a salve of white bark and honey on it, but the discomfort is small, all considering. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moon has climbed halfway to its peak when a lone figure appears, walking slowly up the hill. It wears Kara’s leathers, and bears two swords on its back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she draws near, blonde hair darkens to raven black, and eyes of cornflower blue turn the verdant of new grass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>By the time the figure’s come abreast of her, her doppleganger is gone, and Lena has returned to her true form. Every high vampire possesses unique powers. Lena can take the visage of those she feeds from for a short while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s a neat trick.” Kara extends her hand, meaning to help the vampire on the horse. Instead, she sways a little in the saddle, and it’s up to Lena to keep her from falling face first on the ground. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have I taken too much?” Tender fingers probe at the bite on her neck, and Kara winces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing that some rest and a heap of food in the next town won’t fix.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She grabs Lena’s hand before the vampire has the chance to pull away, kissing her knuckles. “How did it go?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were right.” Lena leaps onto the saddle behind her, puts an arm around her waist. “He invited me right in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And he’ll never get anyone killed ever again. I knocked him out and drugged him with enough Fisstech it’ll be weeks before he can even think. Proof of him dabbing in Necromancy has been left by the Constable’s house and I’m sure the Brotherhood will descend on him like vultures the moment they catch wind of what’s been going on. Lex Luthor’s days as a mage are over.” Lena pauses, and for a time, the only sound is that of Mgła’s hooves striking gravel. “What now?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been thinking,” Kara squirms a bit, twisting around awkwardly to look Lena in the eye. “While you were gone, I mean.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? I didn’t know that Witchers could do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah ah. Very funny.” Kara doesn’t let herself be fooled. She remembers what Lena said about her being gone, and knows the sarcasm is a shield the vampire is using as deflection.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could come with me.” The words spill from her in a rush. “I could use the company, and now that Lex is taken care of, there is no need for you to remain shackled to that place. If anyone else ever finds out about that runestone, chances are they’ll vanish into quicksand before they make it there. And there’s plenty of other nasty things inside that bog. I’m pretty sure I heard a pack of ghouls or two the first night I camped there.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You want </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> to come with you? I’m a monster, Kara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So am I, according to most people.” Kara shrugs, offering a sad smile. “But having someone by your side makes it easier being a monster, don’t you think?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They plod along for quite a while, the road growing narrower the further they get from human-settled lands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know about that being true,” Lena says eventually, resting her head on Kara’s shoulder. Her voice is threaded with frayed hope. “But I’m willing to find out.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Want more?<br/><a href="https://kendrene.tumblr.com/">follow the link on Tumblr</a> for more gay nonsense!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>